Snowman of My Dreams

Chapter 1: Oliver

Chapter 1: Oliver

He was finally home. It seemed like Oliver had been waiting for years for his husband Wyatt to get back, but it had only been a day. When it was just him and the muttering horde of memories and dreams scrambling around within his skull, every day seemed like a life sentence to Oliver McKinsey.

Just seeing Wyatt hurrying up the walkway, his coat clutched tight to his lean frame, made Oliver release the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding all day.

“Hey, baby!” Oliver said as he yanked open their front door, jostling the Christmas lights arranged on the inside of its central glass panel. It was a bit early for them, but festive holiday decorations always cheered him up. “How’d it go?”

Oliver stood aside as Wyatt rushed inside bringing a bitter blast of cold air inside with him. He was sure Wyatt hadn’t seen that he was leaning in for a welcoming kiss and hurried to catch up to his husband who had already made it into the kitchen.

“I asked how it went.”

“Oh, s**t. It was a total disaster.” Wyatt pulled off his hat and gloves and threw them onto the island next to the small cardboard box he’d brought in with him. “The lines were out the door all day. f*****g Randy was no help. I mean, seriously. How many smoke breaks can one person take?”

After absentmindedly peeking into the box, Oliver said, “I’m sorry, babe.”

“Not to mention the goddamned chaffing dishes burned the bottoms layer of, like, every freaking thing. We could only serve the top bits of mashed potatoes or mac ‘n cheese or whatever. That made twice the work.”

“Yikes. That had to be frustrating.”

Wyatt opened the refrigerator and drained an entire bottle of water before reaching in for another. “I told Danielle that we needed a more professional setup. That disposable, easy cleanup s**t is not going to cut it for Christmas. Do you think that restaurant supply house will have, like, Black Friday deals or something? f**k, my feet are killing me.”

“I didn’t do much today. Just hung out, really. I tried calling you once or twice. Well, four times, really.”

“I forgot to mention the floors!” Wyatt flung his arms into the air before striding over to the oven and setting it to preheat. “They were a wet muddy mess. I was scared shitless someone was going to bust their ass all day. I asked Andrew to mop it seemed like every ten seconds. Of course he was too busy talking to Andrea to notice on his own.”

“Old Mrs. Wallace got arrested today,” Oliver said. “Triple homicide. A real tragedy. They’re still not sure who’s going to take care of her herd of Velociraptors. And the holidays are always so rough for dinosaurs in general. Poor things.”

“I hope you’re okay with ham,” Wyatt said. “We didn’t have much turkey left. There were lots of vegetables left and some sides. I’m just going to heat it all up at once. Is that cool?” Wyatt didn’t even look in Oliver’s direction to see if, in fact, it was cool or not.

It wasn’t even fun for Oliver to make up ridiculous stories to see if Wyatt was paying attention. He wasn’t. He hadn’t been for a long time. Oliver sighed and looked out the window at the snow that had begun to drift down in huge fat flakes that were quickly accumulating. He couldn’t be mad at Wyatt. It was his own fault, after all. “It’s snowing.”

“I’m going to take a fast shower while the oven heats up.” Wyatt kicked off his shoes and began to unbutton his shirt as he headed toward the bathroom. “Can you pop that stuff into the oven for me? Hey look, it’s snowing!”

Oliver watched Wyatt retreat down the hall and stared once he’d disappeared from sight. They oven’s gentle beep pulled him from him haze. He rooted through the box and decided he would warm the ham in the oven, but the sides he’d put into their own pots to be warmed, seasoned, and embellished to elevate them from Thanksgiving food served to the poor and underprivileged of Parke County to a romantic meal for two men to share.

The food had been plated and Oliver even had time to light a couple of candles before Wyatt finally emerged still towel drying his hair. “Oh, man. That smells amazing.” Wyatt bent to brush a kiss across Oliver’s stubble-covered cheek. “Sorry I was so distracted when I got home. You know how this time of year is for me.”

Oliver nodded his head and blushed. “S’okay.”

“Now what were you saying about Old Mrs. Wallace? Did you two hang out today or something?”

“Something like that.”

Wyatt smiled and winked while shoveling food into his mouth. Oliver wondered if he even had time to taste the fresh garlic he’d added to the mashed potatoes or the glaze he’d made from the cranberry sauce for the ham. After quietly eating for a few minutes, he said, “I think I’m going outside.”

“What?” Wyatt wiped at the corners of his mouth. “It’s f*****g freezing out there.”

“I know. You just don’t get snow like this every day. I’m going to enjoy it.” Oliver carried his plate to the sink and strode over to the hall closet. His heavy jacket was easy to find, but locating his snow boots took a bit of poking around.

Wyatt finished eating quickly before jetting down the hallway. “Wait for me. I need to find warmer pants.”

A shy smile crept into the corners of Oliver’s mouth. It had been so long since they’d done anything fun together.

Once they had finally made it outside, Oliver realized the conditions weren’t as bad as he had imagined them. The wind had died down now that the snow had arrived and the way their backyard was lit up with floodlights and strands of Christmas lights—white, red, blue, yellow, green, flashing and still alike—the way the huge flakes drifted silently to join the billions of others already on the ground, Oliver couldn’t help but laugh from the sheer joy the scene brought to his heart.

Wyatt, apparently caught up in the magic of the moment, gathered Oliver into his arms and the two spun and laughed in a pool of festive lights and snow while the rest of the world was dark and quiet. This was their time and theirs alone.

Oliver giggled at the snow collecting in Wyatt’s soft curls. He brushed the hair off his husband’s forehead and gave him a tender kiss full on the lips—their first real kiss in days. Weeks. Wyatt let out a playful growl and trailed his kisses from his husband’s adorable crooked smile along his stubbled jawline and down his neck. Oliver’s knees buckled at the attention. Thrills of electric excitement rippled down his body to his n*****s and farther still. Wyatt could excite him like no man ever had. He grabbed a fistful of Wyatt’s hair and held his husband’s head against him and released a throaty moan.

“Cool your jets there, Sparky,” Wyatt said with a laugh. “If you think I’m taking my pants off in these conditions, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Oliver’s hand traveled down to cup Wyatt’s impressive bulge. “I don’t think shrinkage will be an issue.”

Wyatt tore himself away and threw a handful of snow behind him to cover his retreat. Oliver squealed in delight and pursued, gathering snow for his own frosty projectile. Wyatt tried to hide behind their snow-covered grill but he slipped and landed with a thud. Oliver pounced and began playfully shoving snow down Wyatt’s shirt and into his mouth. Wyatt was tall and thin, but he was no match for Oliver’s scrappy bulk.

“Uncle! Uncle!” Wyatt screamed between gales of laughter and squeals of protest. “Get off me you, bastard!”

Oliver could have held Wyatt down indefinitely but was laughing too hard himself to give it much more of an effort. They collapsed into tender heap of chuckles and kisses.

“Let’s go in,” Wyatt said. “I’m freezing.”

“No!” Oliver clung to the front of Wyatt’s jacket. “Not yet. Please?”

Wyatt sent one sidelong glance at the house before looking back down into Oliver’s sparkling blue eyes, so large and full of love. With a sigh, he nodded his consent to stay. “You want to build a snowman?”

“Hell yeah!” Oliver rocketed to his feet and brushed off as much snow as he could from his jacket and pants. “Stellar idea!”

The base of the snowman was the easiest part to construct. What started out as a small snowball rolled around on the ground quickly grew to substantial size. The next layer also quickly took shape, but when the two men tried to lift it off the ground to place it on the base, they struggled. Oliver dissolved into laughter every time they tried to lift together and failed. They were eventually able to awkwardly roll the snowman’s torso up his base and into place. His head quickly followed and the men stood back to admire their work.

“Where in the hell are we going to get coal?” Wyatt mused.

Oliver rubbed his chin in thought. “I have an idea. Can you find some sticks? I’m going inside for one second. I’ll be right back.”

The interior of their refrigerator was neat and orderly. Oliver didn’t have much to do with his time these days. Everything from their recycling bins to their sock drawers was neat and orderly. It made finding the carrot a snap and he placed it on the kitchen island next to the scarf and knit hat he’d grabbed from the hall closet on his way in.

Once he was back outside with all of his snowman-making supplies, he found that Wyatt had spent a long time sorting through the pile of sticks they stacked to one side of the garage before mowing. The pile came in handy whenever they wanted to have a small bonfire. And by the look of the spindly, roughly symmetrical snowman arms already in place, the pile had other uses as well.

“Hat, scarf, nose, and…” Oliver dropped each item in turn in the snow before their creation before reaching into the plastic shopping bag he had threaded his arm through to pull out a can of ground coffee. “Coal! Well, coffee, but I figure it would not only make great eyes and buttons but he could have a cute buzz cut. Ooh, maybe some manly facial hair too.”

Wyatt chuckled. “That’s great thinking outside the box. Hand me the carrot.”

Oliver obliged with a quick peck on Wyatt’s cheek. “You are freezing. Sorry. I shouldn’t make you stay outside. I’m being selfish.”

A cloud passed over Wyatt’s expression. Damn. Oliver knew he should have kept his mouth shut.

“Yeah, well…” Wyatt wrapped the scarf around the snowman’s neck and loosely knotted it in place.

With both thumbs, Oliver stabbed eye sockets for the snowman before carefully patting coffee into them. “Yep, that’s me all right. f*****g Oliver. Never thinking about anyone else.” The slight breeze pinched at the edges of the trail Oliver’s single tear made down his own cheek.

“Did we have to use the good coffee, by the way?” Wyatt asked. He adjusted the carrot to a slightly more flattering angle. “That s**t is expensive.”

“It’s really hard to find work when I have no way of getting there, you know.”

“I’m not doing this now. We were having a good time—”

“And I f****d it up.” Oliver was patting the last bits off coffee into the shape of the snowman’s top button. Wyatt placed his hand on Oliver’s and was about to say something when Oliver interrupted. “Make a wish.”

Oliver nodded in the direction of a shooting star that was flashing across the night sky. He took a deep breath and thought of the events of the day. Loneliness, indifference, impatience. Something had to give. Although he had intended to wish he could take everything back and be in love with his husband again, Oliver found himself making a different wish entirely.

He wished for a way out.